Child's Play
by la z boy
Summary: An AU version of episode 7x04, where Beckett's the one to go investigating in the 2nd Grade classroom instead of Castle, and doing so without another teacher to help her. Unfortunately for her, she also must deal with humiliating prank after humiliating prank from the mischievous kids.
1. Sunday, Monday and Tuesday

**A/N: So, I don't know about the rest of you, but after I saw episode 7x04, Child's Play, I enjoyed it, but couldn't help thinking how much more interesting it would've been if it were Beckett in the classroom instead of Castle. On that note, this idea for a two-shot came to mind, with that very premise. This, then, is an AU version of that episode that takes the same set-up, but puts more focus on the crazy classroom antics and pranks, and it's told over the course of six short "vignettes", combined to form a two-shot.**

**A special thanks and shout-out goes to CalPal052699, who Beta'd this story and helped me brainstorm and also assured me that, yes, little kids CAN get as crazy, wild and mischievous as they do here. :)**

**Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this!**

* * *

CHILD'S PLAY

**SUNDAY**

"I'm sorry, Beckett, I'm really sick. You'll just have to handle this one," Castle tells Beckett from their bed.

It had finally happened. Beckett's worst fears all weekend had been realized, as if Fate decided to pull some cruel joke on her, but as was the case with all cruel jokes, this wasn't funny in the least.

Three days ago, she'd been at ease with the whole situation, or at least, as at ease as the circumstances allowed. The situation in question was that a piece of evidence in her current murder investigation indicated that a young child had possibly been present at the time of the crime, and therefore could point Beckett and her team in the direction of the killer. They'd narrowed it down to someone in the class of Ms. Ruiz, a second grade teacher. The only problem was, they weren't sure _who _it was they needed to talk to. From there, the only logical conclusion was to have Castle, the self-proclaimed "Kid Whisperer," go into the class and try to weed out the child in question, using his honed kid skills the following Monday, since the decision hadn't been made until half an hour before the end of the school day on Friday.

The following weekend, however, clearly had other plans in mind. It started around midday on Saturday, when Castle started complaining about a slight headache, then on Sunday, that headache eventually escalated to him feeling slightly dizzy before finally late Sunday afternoon, Beckett had heard the sound of him chucking up his stomach's contents in their bathroom. Kid Whisperer or not, Castle wasn't immune to a bad stomach virus.

So here he now laid, sheets pulled up around his body, a cool washcloth across his burning forehead and looking paler and so much less lively than usual. Briefly, an image of him in that hospital bed after his sudden reappearance from being missing for two months flashes through Beckett's mind, but she forces those emotions down. She's sitting on his left, stroking the area between his thumb and index finger with her own thumb.

She groans. "I know, I know. I'd just as much rather either Ryan or Espo or even Lanie fill in, but I need them working the case from the outside," she finally lets out.

"Yeah," he tells her. "I know you're not looking forward to this, but for what it's worth, I have complete faith in you." His voice is weak. "Besides," he continues, even managing a slight grin, "think of it as more practice for ... eventually."

She cracks a slight smile, unable to keep feelings of happiness away concerning the idea of little Castle's and Beckett's running around the loft.

"Also," he says, "I'll keep my phone on, just in case you need any advice from The Kid Whisperer." There was a look on his face, as if he had been about to say something else, maybe something like, "because kids are at their worst when they're second grade-age," but he kept silent. Maybe it had just been him fighting down a new wave of sick.

"Thanks, babe," she replies, kissing his forehead.

"Don't mention it."

"You just get some rest," she tells her husband. "If you need anything, I'll be right in the other room, okay? Get better." Beckett strokes his arm tenderly before leaving the bedroom to go join Martha and Alexis in the living room, but Castle manages to get out one last sentence in his hazy voice.

"For what it's worth, you make a _great _nurse."

She throws him a departing look of amusement, even if he can't see it.

She knows in herself, though: tomorrow isn't going to be the best of days, nor all the days after where she'll be working with small children. The agreement they had worked out with the school's principal would allow someone representing the NYPD to be in Mrs. Ruiz's class for a full week as they attempted to find the witness and glean any necessary information. A potential time limit of a day or two had been deemed not ideal by Castle, because he pointed out that sometimes, kids needed coaxing to come out of metaphorical shells, they needed to feel comfortable, and being rushed by only having a single day wouldn't do Beckett's team any favors.

Beckett really had no substantial one-on-one experience with young kids to speak of, not counting Sarah Grace or Cosmo. And the thought of her spending a full week with not one, but at least _ten _of them, was enough to make her more nervous than going up against a serial killer alone. But, she told herself, at least she'll have Ms. Ruiz there in the class with her so things wouldn't get _too _stressful for her.

* * *

**MONDAY**

Beckett wakes up the next day, briefly forgetting that she was the one who would have to go in to the classroom and look after the kids instead of Castle. _Good thing the teacher will be there_, she thought to herself. The thought brings no comfort, though, as she still lets a groan escape her throat.

She gets ready as she would any other day, just with a feeling of nervousness that begins as the equivalent of a bean in the pit of her stomach but becomes the size of a cantaloupe by the time she finishes the various adjustments to her wardrobe and general appearance in front of the bedroom mirror. But in all that time, she still hasn't gotten a better idea of how to even begin to relate to a classroom full of children.

"Try this," suggests Castle from his position on their bed, his head only slightly raised on his pillow. "Since you can't outright interrogate these kids, not if you want to get them to trust you, you have to be more subtle about it."

"I'm open to suggestions," Beckett says plainly, sitting beside Castle on the bed.

After a thoughtful silence, Castle gives his reply. "You need to consider things kids like. For instance, drawing. If one of these kids did indeed witness the murder, it'll obviously have affected them deeply. So, why not find a way to indirectly bring those feelings out?" He pauses, presses his hand lightly to his lips as if trying to hold something back, swallows, shudders and presses on. "Maybe you can get them to draw pictures of some kind of significant event in their lives, and there'll be one who draws ... well, a murder. It'd be their way of calling out for help."

"You really think that'll work?"

"Repressed memories have funny ways of coming back to us."

The double meaning of his words hangs awkwardly in the air until Beckett finally breaks the silence. "Okay. It's ... worth a shot. But what about the rest of the time? How do I treat them? Relate to them?"

"Well, for one, they hate being condescended. Just treat them like anyone else. Not to scare you, but they can smell fear. Level with them, help them, play with them. They're not some weird alien race." Castle could spot the uncertainty in Beckett's eyes. "And remember that I'm just a phone call away."

"I know." Beckett kisses the top of his head, through his hair, and gets up. "Feel better, okay?"

"I will." Castle squeezes her hand. "Good luck, _Miss _Beckett."

She gives him one last loving smile and then leaves the loft, Martha giving assurances that he's in good hands on her way out. She arrives at the school twenty minutes later. _Good thing there wasn't much traffic_, she thinks once again, otherwise she would have been late for school. She rolls her eyes at herself because she hasn't thought _that _for years now.

She walks into the school, finding the front office with little trouble. She asks the receptionist which class she is to be in and with a grunt, the receptionist looks up.

She is an old lady with a round angry face, her eyes slightly magnified by horn-rimmed glasses, and frown lines everywhere. "Excuse me?" the lady huffs.

"I was just wondering which class I'm to be in?" she says, wondering why this lady is so angry and whether the school would want visitors to be greeted by such a disgruntled attitude.

"And who are you?" she sneers.

"I'm Detective Beckett, I-" The old woman cuts her off.

"Oh, the NYPD chick. Yeah, here is your school Visitors' Pass and go to class 34B." she tells Beckett almost robotically, handing her a laminated rectangular pass.

"Okay, uh, thanks," Beckett says to the strangely-behaved woman, affixing the Visitors' Pass to the waistline of her pants so that it hangs in front of her left hip, wondering if she should say something about her attitude or being called a 'chick'. Next, she picks up a school map off a pile on the front desk. Without saying another word, she goes on a trek to find the class. Beckett thinks it odd on the way that Mrs. Ruiz wasn't there in the office to greet her personally, but shrugs it off as her most likely preparing the class for Beckett's arrival.

Once she reaches the class after a few turns, she knocks politely on the door. No one answers, so she knocks again. She can hear a lady's stressed voice and children screaming and laughing. She wonders if anyone will answer or if she should just walk in of her own accord.

After five minutes and multiple knocks, she opens the door to what can only be described as chaos. Children are running and screaming around the most pale green room Beckett can remember seeing in her life, with various colorful posters and decorations such as large butterflies adorning the walls. Glittery and various other colored substances coat the kids' hands and parts of their bodies. A fit-looking woman in her early thirties looks like she is going to turn grey as she tries desperately to chase after them.

_Come on, Kate, _she tells herself. _Castle's right, they're only kids. You can take whatever they throw at you._

Just as she steps over the threshold, a stray eraser from the whiteboard flies her way from out of nowhere and conks her dead-center on her forehead, making her stop in her tracks.

_Except if it's an eraser._

"Hey!" Beckett shouts, and all the small heads turn to look at her, silence immediately falling over the room.

"Who are you?" one boy asks curiously.

"I'm Detect - Miss Beckett. I'm from the NYPD," she answers calmly.

All the children then seem to calm down and look a touch frightened at the new information.

"Now, I would like everyone to find their seats and sit down, while I talk to your teacher," Beckett instructs and they do as they are told. It's at that moment, as Beckett walks over to the relieved other woman, that she registers it's _not _Miss Ruiz.

"Hi," Beckett says kindly to the harried teacher. "I'm Detective Kate Beckett. I'm supposed to be helping run the class this week. Where is Miss Ruiz?"

"Hey, um, funny story. Miss Ruiz phoned in sick this morning, and said she didn't know how long she'd be out. She also said she trusted you'd be capable of handling the kids on your own, with you being a Detective and everything. She said she's sorry for the inconvenience, but she cleared it with the principal, and I have another class and I was just told to wait until you arrived so I could go back to them," she explains.

"Oh, so ... I'm looking after them all by myself?" Beckett asks, that fact being the only one that registered from the sub's mini-spiel.

"Yeah, sorry about that," the sub says sympathetically. "They _are_ a handful, as you can probably tell, but you seem to have a handle on authority. I'm better with older kids myself," she tells her.

"And for how long will I be alone with them?" Beckett asks.

"Until either Miss Ruiz gets better, or the school can get a proper sub in for them, and that could take anywhere between a day to a week since there seems to be a bug going around and most subs are already out of commission," the woman answers Beckett.

"Okay," Beckett says uncertainly. _Son of a …_

"Good luck," the woman offers before slipping gracefully out of the classroom. Beckett notices that she has a "Kick Me!" note on her back, but is too slow to warn her about it.

_Ah, kids…_Beckett thinks to herself in a not-too-positive way.

She turns back to the class now, when one girl puts her hand up.

"Can you arrest us?" she asks gingerly.

"No, don't worry. I can't just arrest you guys," Beckett replies to her.

"Where's your badge?" another girl asks.

"Where's your uniform?" this from a boy.

"Do you have your gun with you?" queries one more boy.

"I don't have a uniform since I'm a Detective," Beckett replies. "And I left my badge and gun at home." An audible, collective groan rises up as she glances down at the teacher's desk to spot an attendance sheet. "Okay, why don't we take Roll?" she says after picking up the paper.

Everybody on the attendance sheet was there in the class.

"Alright," she announces once that's done, "I thought we'd start today by doing something fun!"

"Are we going to play a game?" a black-haired boy named Zack asks excitedly.

"No," Beckett replies. "It's more like an exercise."

"Kind of like running around?" asks the sandy-haired Daniel.

"Not quite."

"It already sounds stupid!" declares the boy named Jason, who looks like he's the "leader of the pack." The kids around him chuckle.

"Well, it's _not _stupid," Beckett promises. "I want you guys to close your eyes," all the kids follow her instructions, "and I want you to think about something that's happened to you or something you saw happen recently. It can be something good or something bad. And then when I tell you to open your eyes, I will have handed out paper and you can start drawing what you were thinking about, okay?"

"What's the point?" Jason challenges, his eyes still closed.

Beckett, quick on her feet, already had an answer. "To help you work on visualizing. And to teach you how sometimes, some details can matter and other times, they don't or they can change. When you get older, it's an important skill to have."

She finds paper on a supply table underneath the window and once all the kids have a piece, she tells them to open their eyes. The kids draw for a little until Beckett feels it's been long enough and tells everyone to hand in their pieces of paper.

The rest of the morning passes without incident and according to Miss Ruiz's schedule. The kids all comply with Beckett's requests, but she still can't help but pick up on some slight iciness on the children's part, as if they don't want her in their class. During recess after lunch, she finally has time to go through the kids' drawings and sees one she is quite concerned about, depicting what looks to be someone getting shot. She checks the kid's name - Jack - and goes outside to talk with him.

She leaves the classroom and comes out onto the playground, finding little Jack playing by himself underneath a tree, enraptured with a collection of small toy soldiers.

"Hey, Jack!" she calls out to him once she's close enough.

"Hi, Miss Beckett," he says back to her.

"Can we talk about your, uh, lovely drawing?" Beckett asks him.

"Sure, Miss." He comes closer to her. "Am I in trouble?"

"No, not at all! I just want to talk."

She sits cross-legged on the grass and pats the spot beside her. He sits and they start chatting away. Soon enough, Beckett realizes the drawing was just a recreation of a movie scene Jack watched, so she stands and he follows suit. She's struck, however, by how easy it was to talk with him. _Maybe this week won't be so bad after all, _Beckett thinks.

But at some point on her way back to the classroom, some kids playing a chasing game abruptly dart right in front of her, making her fall backwards. She knows from the feeling beneath her that she landed in something unfortunate, and as a result, a sour looks crosses upon her face.

She stands gracefully, slowly, looking cautiously around and hoping not so many people will notice, using the mentality of, _It's not that bad, I don't care what these little kids think, anyway_. But then after she's back on her feet, she hears _click, flash! _and ensuing laughter_._

Beckett turns, a composed look struggling to stay upon her face as she looks around at the little boy behind her, Jason. Of course it was him. He has an old-fashioned camera and a picture clutched triumphantly in his hand. He is laughing like a maniac at the photo. Just then, more kids begin to crowd around and point and laugh at Beckett.

"What's so funny?" she asks in the sweetest voice she can muster up from the depths of her stomach, but she was ultimately unable to mask the dread and uncertainty that was there as well.

"The mud that looks like poop on your butt!" Jason says in a voice that makes it clear that he and the others think it's absolutely hysterical and from their vantage point, it most definitely is.

"What?!" Beckett exclaims in horror.

"The mud looks like you pooped your pants!" he giggles. "Look." He holds the photo up so she can see.

As the instant photo clearly shows, the seat of Beckett's jeans are indeed slathered with a rather thick layer of the brown substance. "God da-ndilions." she corrects herself, smiling her best sweet smile at him, as if she wasn't currently embarrassed beyond relief, but even a child could tell it was extremely forced.

"My Mommy said never to use the Lord's name in vain," Jason recites cheekily.

"Your Mommy is right, I apologize," she says through gritted teeth and then turns and walks to the bathroom to clean herself up. Beckett briefly considers going back for the humiliating photo, but prefers not to prolong her mockery if possible.

She cleans her bottom off as best she can in the bathroom, but a considerable brown stain is still left behind, seeped well into the fabric. With a heavy, calming sigh, she makes her way back to the classroom to find her class being ushered inside by one of the other teachers, whom Beckett gratefully thanks.

The rest of the day goes by fine, save for the occasional joke made about the back of her pants from a few of the kids, but she gets through it. She still has to come back in tomorrow, though, and she groans internally at the thought.

_I need to find this witness, and fast._

* * *

**TUESDAY**

When Beckett first got home that afternoon, she tried her best to make a beeline for her dresser without Martha, Alexis or Castle, especially, seeing the state of the seat of her jeans. But she had no such luck, as Martha and Alexis had been waiting in the living room when she got home and had spotted the stain when Beckett turned to close the door behind her. Naturally, they inquired about it, leading to a hurried explanation that Beckett muttered, red-faced, but that was nothing compared to when Castle saw it. Even though he had remained as sympathetic as possible after hearing about her accident, she could still detect notes of amusement in his voice.

She told him about how his drawing idea had yielded no results, which he responded to by suggesting she not try to force it so much. "Use your cop training," Castle suggested. "Search for those telltale signs that something's troubling one of them."

It was as good a plan as any.

Tuesday morning, Castle isn't feeling any better. But today, Beckett makes sure to take her duffel bag normally reserved for her gym visits and to place a spare change of clothes in there, just in case any other potential mishaps leave her with dirty clothing again.

She arrives at school earlier today, and walks into class a few minutes before the children, which allows her to stow the duffel bag away underneath her desk. She thinks she will follow Castle's advice and find a time during the day, apart from recess, to let them do their own thing and see how they behave; maybe she'll be able to spot the witness, like her husband surmised. A full day had already gone by and neither she nor Ryan and Espo were any farther along in solving the case than they had been before; a quick phone call with her partners last night informed Beckett of that.

The class walks in as the bell rings and some come a little after. As each child enters, they take a seat, all the while talking up a storm with each other. Once everyone is seated, Beckett gets all the kids attention.

"Hey, everybody!" she screams over the loud, high octave voices, keeping her voice pleasant.

The whole class goes dead silent. Beckett uses the opportunity to get the attendance out of the way and consults Miss Ruiz's notes for the day.

"Um, okay, so it looks like we're going to start today by doing some Group Reading," she informs them. "So, could everybody please go get the copies of _Fun Fairy Tales _that are stacked by the cubbies and take them back to your seats? One per person, though."

The kids surprise her by giving a chorus of, "Yes, Miss Beckett!" right before they comply with her request. By all appearances, the slightly standoff-ish demeanor that she'd picked up on yesterday now seems to be gone, and it makes Beckett breathe a small sigh of relief. Her own copy of the designated book lays on the desk, complete with a sticky-note jutting out from the top, marking the place where they were to begin. According to the notes, she's to start reading herself, then pick random students to continue on until the story is complete. She opens to the marked page to see that the story they're reading is _Rumplestiltskin_. She recalls the tale from her own youth, the one of the deceitful man who turns straw to gold.

By the time Beckett looks back up, she notices that all of the students have gotten back in their seats, each of their books open on top of their desks. She takes that as her cue, momentarily wondering whether or not to read too much into their suddenly agreeable behavior, but shrugs it off as her reading too much into it. She's just grateful they're being so calm.

"So," she begins, standing up and walking around to lean against the desk, "how many of you have read or heard of _Rumplestiltskin _before?"

Nearly all of the class raises their hands, making Beckett nod.

"Good." Her eyes fall on Jack, who's one of the ones sitting in the front row. "Jack, when I point at you sometime after I start reading, would you like to pick up where I leave off?"

"Sure, Miss Beckett."

After flashing him a warm smile, Beckett launches into the tale of _Rumplestiltskin_, making it past the first two quick, illustrated pages before gesturing to Jack, and he immediately picks up where she left off. Jack continues for about half a minute, then he looks back up at her.

"You can pick the next person to read, if you like," she says with a wink.

Jack smiles broadly, looks from left to right and finally settles on Daniel, who appears reluctant at first, but moves forward with the story anyway. Daniel only reads a few lines before passing it on to a red-haired girl named Lily, who reads the most out of all the kids so far, but eventually picks Zack to read after her.

The story is starting to wind down by the time a black-haired girl with glasses named Alex is reading, with Beckett thinking to herself how Castle would most likely get a kick out of this "Pass-It-On" reading style, when she notices that the job of reading isn't the only thing being passed around among the kids.

Back in the third row, Beckett can see the kids who are seated beside each other handing off what is clearly a piece of paper and giggling when they see what's on it. Whatever it is, it is clearly starting to distract from the activity, so Beckett walks between the desks towards Oliver, the dark-blonde haired boy who currently has the paper.

Oliver's face drops when he sees Beckett hold out her hand. By now, the reading has stopped. Silently, Oliver hands over what's in his own hand, and Beckett clutches it tightly.

"It's just a joke," Oliver says sheepishly after the fact.

Beckett finally looks down to see what it is, and her stomach drops. It's a photograph, but not just any photograph; a slightly enlarged version, as if printed out from a computer, of Jason's photograph from yesterday that showed her in the unfortunate position of looking like she hadn't gotten to the bathroom in time. Underneath the photo itself was a bar of white space, and there, written in crude brown letters, was a caption to go with the picture: "Miss Beckett Poops Her Pants!"

The kids all start laughing. Obviously, they'd all seen it by now. Beckett whirls around and faces Jason, deeming him to be the instigator, feeling both angry and embarrassed at the same time. His face remains neutral as she bears down on him, like he doesn't care if he gets punished or not. She stares him down for the longest time, but he keeps calm in the face of her anger, despite the situation. Beckett has to admit that she's impressed on some level by his cool demeanor. She's had murder suspects crack under less pressure.

"This," she holds up the enlarged photograph, addressing the whole group, "is _not _a way to spend time in class! Nor is it right to make fun of people!" She goes over and places the picture face-down on her desk. "Now, I'll let this one slide, but if I find something like that again, it'll mean _big _trouble for whomever I catch with it. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Miss Beckett," the kids say simultaneously.

Beckett rolls her eyes. "Okay, that's enough of Reading Time. Now we can move on to today's math lesson." There is a collective groan as Beckett retrieves a pile of worksheets from a folder on the desk. "Miss Ruiz says you can work on these in groups of no more than three," she instructs while distributing the papers by counting the numbers needed per row and giving each mini-stack to the first kid on each row. "You're allowed to use calculators, as long as you show your work, too. I can also answer any questions you may have." Beckett finishes passing out the worksheets. "Alright, break up into your groups, but keep the noise down while you work, please."

Beckett sits back down at her desk as the kids begin their allotted forty-five minutes for the assignment. During that time, a few of them come up to her with questions concerning adding or subtracting and she's able to point them in the right direction each time. She knows it's very rudimentary stuff, merely helping with math problems, but it still makes her feel more at ease. The kids also seem to have calmed down, and before Beckett knows it, it's time for the math session to be over.

"Alright, please pass up your sheets, and make sure your names are on them," she announces while she stands. "I'll come collect them."

_Still not any closer to finding that witness, _she tells herself as she gathers the worksheets.

It's now just a little past 10:30, and Beckett figures now would be a good time as any to try her next tactic.

"You know, since you guys worked so hard just now, I think you've earned some free time, okay?" she tells them. An uproar of cheers emanates from the class before they all get out of their seats and start moving around. Beckett goes behind the desk to observe, finally feeling useful.

Eventually, though, observing children talk or play starts to feel a bit like a boring stakeout, so she decides to briefly break the monotony by glancing through the math worksheets. Sighing, she flips through each sheet, only barely focusing on the lines of numbers that fill up each of them. About halfway through the stack, however, she comes across a particular piece of paper that catches her eye for longer than just a second.

Instead of a worksheet, it's a drawing, but not just any drawing. It's a crude crayon rendering of Beckett herself, which she can tell by the short sentence written across the top of the sheet. It's _not_, however, the most flattering portrait. In true second grade style, the image of Beckett is only slightly better than a stick figure, with her head being nice and round, but that wasn't the only part of her body that was represented as large. In the picture, she is turned sideways, which had allowed the illustrator the chance to draw Beckett's butt as "comedically" overlarge.

The phrase written above the drawing read, "Miss Beckett Has A BIG Butt!" As she reads the caption a third time now, Beckett tries to decide whether to feel more angry than offended, or more offended than angry. Her eyes jump to the name seemingly mocking her in the upper right-hand corner, written in pink: Emily.

She scans the room for Emily, the reserved chestnut-haired girl she had initially labeled as one of the nicer kids, but this picture obviously proves otherwise. Emily is still seated at her desk not far from the door, doodling on a fresh piece of paper. Beckett calls out to tell her to come to the desk, and the little girl is there within seconds.

"Do you have something to say for yourself, Emily?" Beckett asks evenly, holding up the drawing.

Emily's eyes quickly go from wide to confused. "I...I didn't draw that, Miss Beckett!"

"Then why is your name on it?"

"I don't know! Maybe someone else drew it. It wasn't me!"

Beckett peers carefully at the second grader. "Do you have any proof you didn't? Because these colors look _a lot _like the crayons you have on your desk." She motions towards the assortment scattered on top of Emily's desk. "If you did it, then just tell me. Don't lie."

"I'm _not_ lying!" Emily burst out. "This is stupid!"

By now, the classroom has gone silent and all eyes are focused on Beckett and Emily.

"Fine," Beckett says after a few seconds. "If that's the attitude you're going to show, then you can have a Time Out." She doesn't pay any mind to the shocked look Emily gives her as she gets up, takes the girl by the shoulder and guides her over to a swivel chair sitting in the far left corner of the room. Along the way, the kids all chant "Oooooooh!" Beckett seats Emily down in the chair. "Ten minutes, then you can come back," she says and turns the chair so that Emily, arms crossed and huffing noises escaping her lips, faces the wall intersection. She leaves her there.

She starts to walk around then, watching how each kid plays and chats, searching for if anyone is doing something strange or indicative. But after a few minutes of no such luck, she goes back towards the desk with the intention of calling up Castle for any more advice. However, she discovers her phone has disappeared from where she left it.

"Hey, Miss Beckett!" one boy calls out, making Beckett turn. It's Jason, who's holding up and waving her phone around. "Looking for this?"

"That's not a toy, Jason!" she declares while walking towards him. Two groups have formed on opposite sides of the windows, but Beckett is only focused on reclaiming her phone.

"It is now!" Jason retorts. The other kids start giggling.

"Okay, very funny, you stole my phone. Now give it back, please."

"You have to catch it!"

Before Beckett can react, Jason tosses her phone over to someone in the group on the other side. Beckett turns and goes to snatch it, but the phone has already sailed past her, back to the other side. By now, the kids are all laughing, and Beckett twists and turns while attempting to catch her phone, but the little brats are too fast for her. It's like a cruel game of Monkey in the Middle.

While her back is turned to Jason's group, Zack, who's a part of it, steps over to the table that has a large jar of marbles sitting on top of it, and scoops it up in his arms. He hurries forward while Beckett's back is still facing him and wastes no time in overturning the jar so that the marbles all plummet down onto the floor, rolling directly towards Beckett's feet.

She's too slow to realize it. The marbles converge tightly around her feet, surprising her and causing her to lose her balance. With a "Whooo!" she's lifted off the ground momentarily before landing back on it with a thud, splayed on her back, the impact knocking the wind out of her. It isn't the first time she's been hit hard like that, however, especially in her line of work. She's simply never been in such a position because of children before.

Beckett just lays there, catching her breath and pushing away the pain, as the kids just keep laughing at her. While she does, she finds it remarkable that the noise hasn't attracted the attention of any other teachers. Eventually, with a grunt, she slowly sits up, but the kids have dispersed, and she notices her phone is back on her desk. Beckett gingerly gets to her feet, noting Emily twisting back around to face the wall. She contemplates punishing the kids for the prank, but decides to do so once she gets some of her energy back and some of the pain dissipates.

The aching doesn't go away until five minutes before lunchtime, at which point Zack approaches the desk shyly, hands behind his back.

"Yes?" Beckett asks.

"I made you a Sorry Sign," he says, holding out a piece of paper with the words "I'm Sorry," written in blue and green marker.

The gesture is cute enough to make Beckett smile and stand to bend across the desk to take the sign from Zack, but he steps back at the last minute, causing her to fall on the desk with an "Oomph!" She tries to get up now, but before she knows it, more of the kids spring up and hurriedly use four jump ropes, two on each side of her, to tie and secure her arms and legs to those of the desk. She struggles mightily, but can't move and then she hears fits of laughter.

That's when she starts to feel strange things going on at her backside. The kids group together behind Beckett and begin to put glitter and paint all over her butt. They gleefully smudge it everywhere with their grubby little hands, making for a very uncomfortable feeling, and slap her for good measure as she screams out threats of calling their parents.

"Now her butt is big AND pretty!" Jason crows over the howling laughter.

She hears _click, flash, click, flash _as the camera delivers some more photos intended to further humiliate her, and she has a good guess as to who the photographer is. Next, they stick feathers and other assorted goods to her like sequins before the bell for lunch rings. Mercifully, the little demons free her from the desk and laugh merrily on their way to the cafeteria before she has a chance to do anything.

_I hate this case, _Beckett thinks to herself as she observes the state of her "pretty" pants seat in a nearby mirror.

She grumbles and grabs her bag to change pants in the bathroom. Along the way, she keeps the duffel positioned in front of her bottom to hide it from anybody wandering the halls. A sense of familiarity briefly washes over her as she changes pants in a bathroom stall, but all the while, Beckett is thinking how Castle owes her big time.

She comes back from the bathroom and replaces the duffel, grabs her lunch, and heads to the cafeteria. She spots her class within seconds, and the instant she reaches the kids, she leans in close and mutters, "You're in BIG trouble when we get back!" Beckett eats her lunch at the end of their table, as far removed from the brats as possible, silently stewing in her anger. She's a police detective, what is she doing here, subjecting herself to such immature pranks? And to make matters worse, zero progress has been made in her efforts of finding the witness. The thought makes her sigh deeply.

Recess is a less interesting affair for Beckett today; she keeps to the sidelines, using the opportunity to once again look for any potential "suspects," but just like before, none pop out. She also makes sure to stay clear of any running kids or mud puddles. At the end of recess, she calls her class to line up, but in so doing, notices an oddity.

"Where are Jason and Zack?" she asks suspiciously of the first child in line, Jack, as her eyes scan the playground for any sign of them.

"I think they already went inside," Jack replies.

"What?"

Beckett looks toward the doors leading back into the school and sighs, rubbing her forehead in the process. "Alright, come on, everyone."

She leads them inside and through the hallways until they finally reach their room.

The door is slightly ajar, but by now, Beckett is too angry to give it a second thought. She pushes the door open more so she can enter and steps through, when a bucket of mud is poured all over her, the sloppy substance dripping down each of her body parts and weighing her down. Her temper instantly flares and the kids burst into laughter, but before she can even take another step or speak a single word, she is assaulted with glitter that sticks to the mud.

_What a wonderful day_…she thinks bitterly to herself as she retrieves her duffel bag yet again and exits the classroom without a word. Eyes closed, Beckett navigates by feel only back to the closest bathroom. Once there, she locates some paper towels and wipes her eyes before looking at her surroundings. She notices she is in the Men's room and soon makes an exit and goes to the Ladies'. Luckily, no one saw her.

She goes back to class after cleaning herself up as best she could, already dreading whatever the rest of the week held.

_Just a few more damn days_, Beckett thinks to herself.


	2. Wednesday, Thursday and Friday

**A/N: Here's the second, and final, part of this story. I meant to do this earlier, but credit again goes out to CalPal052699 for the fabulous cover/poster for this fic. :)**

* * *

**WEDNESDAY**

"I know you'd like nothing more than to arrest them and send them to Juvie for pissing you off," Castle says the next morning, "but you need to keep your emotions in check."

"_You _try spending time alone with these brats, then!" Beckett spits out as she paces furiously back and forth in front of their bed. "I'm supposed to be trying to find evidence to help solve a murder, not get humiliated day after day by a bunch of second graders!"

Castle clears his throat, but ends up coughing as a result. He's still sick, but has told Kate he made an appointment with his Doctor to make a house call later today. "You know, Kate," he says after he finishes, "maybe I was wrong. Maybe interrogation is the way to go."

Beckett stops in her tracks and walks closer to his side. "Really? How?"

"Indirectly. It's a technique I use for scenes sometimes. Ask them questions that seem inconsequential at first, but would really reveal who you're looking for, or at least, someone to focus on."

Beckett mulls over the suggestion, biting her lip, and nods. "Okay, it's worth a shot. But in my experience, people need to feel at ease when being interrogated, so I should let them ask _me _questions first, just so they can feel comfortable and know that I'm not trying to punish them for the past two days. Even though I'd like nothing better, honestly."

She leaves the loft with a renewed sense of hope and arrives at school with at least three changes of clothes this time. _You can never be too prepared_, is the bitter thought running through her head. Unlike the last two days, she feels better about her prospects, because she can finally put her cop skills to use and, if all goes according to plan, she'll be able to get back to the Precinct as soon as possible.

By the time the kids arrive for the day, Beckett's casually leaning against the teacher's desk, trying to communicate as much friendliness through her body language as she can. Rather than having her hands crossed over her chest, she lets her thumbs rest in her pockets and she smiles the most genuine smile she can muster. Many of the kids look at her confusedly in response, clearly wondering if something's up.

"Okay, guys!" she says brightly, forgoing the attendance. "I thought we'd try something a little different to get the day going today."

"What?" Jason asks suspiciously.

"Well, I was thinking that maybe one of the reasons you all have been so, uh … _spirited _this week is that, obviously, you don't really know me, must think I'm strange and all that. So, I thought we could begin today by letting you ask whatever questions you want about me. That way, you'll get to know me better and I won't seem so weird to you. I promise to answer _any _questions you ask, and I won't lie. Then, maybe after that, I can ask _you _some things and that way, we'll all get to know each other a little better. Sound good?"

The kids look at each other and whisper among themselves, their tones communicating their uncertainty.

"Plus," Beckett continues, "how about this? After you finish asking me your questions, I also promise to do a dare of any kind, just to show you that there are no hard feelings for yesterday. Okay?" She had thought up the last part on the drive over, and while the possibilities involved were certainly potentially tricky, the implication of further endearing herself to the class was what made her go with it.

It seems to do its job, too, because the class immediately perks up, making them all nod vigorously.

"Great! So, who'd like to ask the first question?"

Every single child shoots their hand up into the air, and they all wiggle in excitement.

She scans the rows, her eyes jumping from face to face, seeing that each of them is aglow with interest. After a few seconds, Beckett finally settles on Oliver by pointing to him and calling out his name. As he lowers his hand with a grin on his face, the others groan because _they _wanted to be picked first.

"Have you ever tripped and fallen on your face in front of your friends, or your boss?" Olivier asks, his voice expectant.

Beckett grins momentarily at the question, not at all surprised, because she had expected silly questions, anyway. "Yeah, I have, actually." The kids lean forward as one. "What happened was, I was walking through our bullpen, the place where we all have our desks, and I was carrying this _big _stack of folders with a bunch of loose papers. Well, a few of those papers slipped out of the folders as I was going to put them away, and I stepped on one. Now, the floor was so slick, and I had _really _high-heeled shoes on, so that combination made me slip on the paper and go falling right onto the floor, and the files went up in the air around me. My co-workers, Ryan and Espo, as well as my fiance, Rick, were there and saw it. And my boss saw through her office window, too."

The kids chuckle at that, some giggling into their palms.

"But, here's a lesson for you: you should never care if people make fun of you if something like that happens. If you can show them that you're happy being yourself, no matter what they think, you can go a long way in life." She pauses to let that sink in. "Okay, next?"

Hands rocket back into the air, and Beckett chooses Zack. "Have you ever been somewhere with a lot of people around, and you had a wedgie or you had an itch on your butt? And did you do anything about it?"

This gets a few giggles from the group, and Beckett tilts her head down and sighs. _Is this how it's going to go? _she thinks. _Look, just play along. You want to do everything you can to get them to like you, right? _Beckett resumes her grin when she looks back up. "Alright. Yes, there was one time I had an itch on my butt, and it was when I was at a crime scene in the park once. I backed up against a tree and rubbed it up and down as subtly as I could, but I'm pretty sure Espo and my other friend Lanie, as well as a few other cops who were around, saw me and could tell what I was doing." She nods her head, putting up with more giggling. "I know, I know. Who's next?

"What's the most embarrassing fart you've ever had?" This from a boy named Matt.

"Are you _sure _these are the kinds of questions you want to ask?" The kids nod eagerly, making Beckett sigh again. "I guess that would have to be one day at work. It was after lunch, and I had this sandwich with a lot of meat and cheese on it. My team and I were giving an update to our boss about a case, and before I knew it, I felt a rumbling in my stomach, and out it came. One of the loudest farts I've ever had in my life. And my team just stared at me for a good half minute afterwards." The giggling escalates into more pronounced laughter. "Aren't there any other kinds of questions you want to ask me?"

"You said we could ask you _anything _we wanted, Miss Beckett!" Alex speaks up. "Well, _these _are the ones we want to ask!"

"Yeah!" Jason says, his hand already in the air. "Can I ask the next one? Pleeeeeease?" Upon Beckett's hesitant nod, he continues. "Have you ever pooped your pants for real as an adult?" The class cackles.

_Kids … _Beckett thinks to herself. She has half a mind to try and skip over the question, but the little voice in her head, which sounds exactly like Castle, reminds her that if she wants to earn the kids' trust here in this moment, then she needs to lay all her cards on the table. No matter how demeaning it will be for her. She clears her throat. "Yes … and kind of like the last question, it was because of something I ate. It was in college, and I was out with my friends on a Friday night. We ate Mexican food for dinner that night. Well, about two hours later, we were hanging around outside, very far from any bathrooms. I ran as fast as I could to the nearest building the moment I felt it, but … I got there too late. I had to go back to my room to wash and change, obviously."

The laughter reaches its crescendo, and most of the kids put their heads in their arms on top of the desk as they react. Beckett rubs her temples, her cheeks going red. Once again, _I hate this case, _floats through her head. "Next question …" she mumbles, her eyes still trained on the floor.

"What's your favorite color?"

The simple, regular question asked in a high voice makes Beckett glance up to see who said it: Emily. Emily is looking at Beckett with a blank, unreadable face, but Beckett still smiles out of relief.

"Purple," she answers happily.

"There's another part of the question," Emily adds. The rest of the kids are quiet now. Emily briefly glances at the rest of them before asking the second part. "Is that the color of the underwear that you're wearing _right now?_" Once she finishes talking, Emily joins her classmates in laughing loudly.

Beckett's face goes completely red and it becomes one of the rare moments in her life when she's lost for words. She spends a few seconds stuttering in the midst of all the laughing, before finally finding the right words. Not willing to admit that it _is_, she says: "I … I think that's enough questions. You know what, why don't we go right to the dare?"

Sounds of disappointment travel through the group, but those noises soon turn into ones of discussion. After a few minutes, during which Beckett eyes them all suspiciously, Emily is the one who gets up from her seat. "Turn around, Miss Beckett," she says politely.

Rumblings of this being a bad idea go through Beckett's mind as she reluctantly complies, turning to face the blackboard. A few more minutes go by without anything happening, and it gets to the point where she's about to turn back around to see what's happening, but she hears Emily's voice again. It's right by her ear, too, as if the girl is standing on a chair.

"Your dare is to stay completely still while we put Mr. Whiskers on you!"

Mr. Whiskers is the class pet, a tiny white mouse who's kept in a cage in the far left corner of the room most of the time, but the squeaking that starts up by Beckett's ear tells her that the mouse is now being held in Emily's hand. And despite the numerous times she's had guns and other assorted weapons threaten her, and as many ruthless thugs she's tackled without second thoughts, Beckett completely freezes at the prospect of having a tiny mouse placed on her body.

"Wait …" she begins, her voice uneasy.

Emily doesn't wait. She puts the creature on Beckett's shoulder, where it immediately starts crawling across her shoulders and then, ultimately, into her clothing. The class is giggling like maniacs.

Beckett twitches and turns as she feels it crawling over her skin, shocked out of her frozen state just moments before. She hates the feel of it. She looks around desperately, starting to hop and wiggle like a madwoman, and it only makes the kids laugh harder.

"The mouse is in my clothes!" she screams uselessly to the kids, hoping one will help her or at least take back the dare. Of course, no one does.

"You lose the dare, Miss Beckett!" Emily proclaims as she laughs. "Now sit down so Mr. Whispers can crawl free!"

Zach has wheeled her desk chair out and over to her in the midst of all the madness. Happy to comply, Beckett desperately sits on the seat, not paying much attention, and she feels something hard prick her butt. This makes her jump in the air and the kids laugh even harder. She puts her hands over her bottom, and feels a few somethings stuck to it. Tacks. When she looks around, she spots the little white mouse crawling away from under her.

"Oh my gosh, Mr. Whiskers, are you okay?" Emily coos at the mouse, causing Beckett to roll her eyes. "You shouldn't be so irresponsible, Miss Beckett!" she scolds.

"Me?! It was - never mind." Beckett isn't even bothered to argue anymore. All she wants to do is head to the bathroom and remove the tacks.

**THURSDAY**

The way Beckett sees it, she has two last options available to her in how to deal with the kids: going to the Principal or bribing them. Castle's illness is finally showing signs of abating, but not nearly enough to let him try his hand with the class, so Beckett is still stuck in her unenviable position. Castle expects to be ready to give it a try by next week if Beckett still hasn't gotten anywhere by then, but nonetheless, there's a ticking clock on this whole endeavor, and her time is running out.

Her first order of business this morning is to stop by the doughnut shop she's passed every day this week, en route to the school,, leaving the loft early enough to fit it into the drive time. There, she orders two boxes of a dozen doughnuts each, which come packaged in those trademark light pink boxes. Those boxes are subsequently stacked in the passenger seat of her car, where the aroma mixes perfectly with the coffee she ordered along with them. With every sip she takes of the coffee, Beckett is more and more sure that she'll need every drop of caffeine she can get if the week she's had so far is any indication of what the next two days will be like.

She arrives fifteen minutes before the morning bell, her now-required duffel bag of spare clothes slung over her shoulder and the boxes of doughnuts balanced in front of her. Beckett sets the bag in its place and the boxes on top of her desk, beside each other. Included in the first box are enough napkins for all of the kids, so she takes the time to distribute each on the surface of all the desks. By the time she's done, the bell is rung and the class filters in, their eyes immediately falling on the pink boxes.

"So, I thought I'd surprise you guys today!" Beckett says brightly, still standing in the midst of the desks. She makes her way back to her desk and opens the boxes, revealing the rows of doughnuts, most of them topped with frosting and sprinkles of various colors. "Who likes doughnuts?"

The kids need no further coaxing. They excitedly swarm around the snacks, their fingers reaching out hungrily.

"Only one per person!" Beckett raises her voice over the chatter. "And stay calm!"

By the time the mob of kids has dispersed, only seven doughnuts remain, and Beckett decides to take one covered in pink frosting and multicolored sprinkles for herself. Enough of her coffee is left over to go with it.

"Do you guys have anything to say about this?" she asks sweetly but pointedly.

"Thanks, Miss Beckett!" the class choruses, their voices slightly muffled by mouthfuls of doughnut.

She takes her seat at the head of the class, and the first few "official" minutes of the day pass in relative silence, as everyone munches contentedly on their second breakfast._ So far, so good, _Beckett thinks to herself. She crumples the paper towel she was using as a plate into a ball and tosses it into a nearby trash can.

"Okay, once everybody's finished, we can go ahead and get started for the day," she announces before getting up to write a list of words the class would soon have to work to find definitions for as part of today's reading lesson. Once done, she turns back around and her eyes instantly fall on a pair of doughnuts that are now lying on the floor in-between the desks of Zack and Alex. Both kids are reaching down for them, but are obstructed by the side rails of their desks.

"Miss Beckett, can you help us? We can't reach," says Alex in a very kid-like moan.

Beckett looks toward the open box which still has a few leftover doughnuts, and notices that there are now two fewer than there were before. "Did the two of you take more without asking?" She asks, reverting back to her stern tone.

"Sorry," Zack replies sheepishly.

Beckett just sighs and shakes her head slightly, stepping forward and around her desk, walking towards the two doughnuts. But the instant her legs pass through the first set of desk legs, she finds her footing suddenly lost and before she can do anything about it, she's tumbling down towards the floor. She collides roughly with the ground, hard enough to make a considerable impact, but not so hard that there's any danger of bruising. For most of her body, there's that hard thump that sends slight tremors through her muscles, but with her upper chest, specifically her _breasts, _it's a different story.

In the split-second while she was falling, she'd half-expected her face to be smashed into the doughnuts, but due to her height, the pastries find a slightly lower target - or, target_s, _to be precise. No sound is made, so it's just the sensation of squishing against her boobs that alerts Beckett to the fact that the doughnuts have _hilariously _found themselves pressed against the mounds. The fresh round of laughter that erupts around her tells her that it had been yet another prank, unsurprisingly.

With a groan, Beckett gets to her feet, revealing the now practically flat doughnuts on the floor, but also putting the brown and pink frosting stains in unfortunate locations on her shirt in plain sight.

It makes the kids laugh even harder.

"Wow, we were hoping you'd get it in the face!" Zack cackled. "But _this _is so much better!"

All Beckett wants to do is throttle each and every one of the kids, but her cop instincts, knowing child abuse laws, pull her back. She waits for the laughter to eventually die down before saying anything. "I'm going to go change my shirt, and you're all coming with me," she says in a deadly calm voice. "And when we get back, there _will _be consequences."

She retrieves her duffel bag from its usual spot, much earlier in the day than she'd anticipated, and snaps her fingers before motioning at the door, indicating the kids to all line up, which they do, grins plastered on their faces.

The quick walk to the bathroom is accompanied by the incessant murmuring of the children, most likely about her, but she ignores it. Upon reaching the bathroom door, she orders them to stay there and heads inside, replacing her messed-up shirt with a clean one while in a stall. When she steps out of the stall and looks at herself in the mirror, she sighs. _Why am I not going to the principal about all this? _she thinks to herself. _Oh, right, because any hope of finding this witness depends on me NOT going off on these kids._

It really is an unenviable situation; she's getting pranked relentlessly by these little demons, but she can't do anything except take it, for if she comes across as too hostile about it, there goes her chances of making headway in the case. Not that she's been getting anywhere to begin with.

Beckett is relieved to discover that the kids are calmly waiting for her in the hallway, and with a terse "Come on," they start heading back to the classroom.

"What's our punishment, Miss Beckett?" Jason asks once everybody is re-situated.

"Um …" Beckett rubs her temples as her inner voice, which sounds remarkably like Castle, says, _It's all about trust. _"Just … sit quietly for twenty minutes. If I hear anything from anybody, I'll keep adding on five minutes. Understood?" The class nods. "Good."

Remarkably, the kids follow instructions, which makes Beckett grateful. When Quiet Time is over, she begins the lessons for the day, keeping a lookout from the corners of her eyes whenever her back is turned, just in case they try to pull something else. But much to her relief, they don't. In fact, from then until lunchtime, the class is the best-behaved she's seen them be all week. So, by the time lunch ends and recess begins, Beckett is actually feeling rather happy.

That same feeling is still there as she sits at her desk after recess, watching the class dutifully work on an Arts &amp; Crafts project. _Maybe I can get what I need before they go home._

"Miss Beckett?" Emily raises her hand. "Can you come help me with the gluestick?"

"Of course, Emily."

But when she tries to get up, she finds that she can't, her butt refusing to be lifted from the chair. It surprises her at first, but after a few seconds of furious struggling and grunting, the realization hits her. "I'm glued to the chair, aren't I?" Her answer comes in the form of fresh laughter, prompting her to angrily wriggle some more.

Before Beckett knows it, most of the boys are dragging the chair out into the open and tying her hands behind it and her legs together with jump ropes. "What the f-"

"Oooooh, you almost said a bad word!" says Emily with a mischievous smile.

Beckett's attention is diverted by a rag, serving as a gag, that is put over her mouth, muffling any sounds of protests. Never in all her years as a cop did she think she'd one day be tied up and gagged in a chair by kids instead of criminals.

An open bottle of red paint is carried over by Jason, who places it on Beckett's desk. It doesn't take long for the boys to start dipping their hands in red paint and hold the dripping palms out in front of her breasts. Her eyes widen and she tries to scoot back, but it only makes her bump into the front of her desk. The grubby hands of Jason find their way onto her boobs, relishing the feel of them and lingering for as long as possible.

"Stop!" she exclaims through the gag, but it comes out as a muffled, incomprehensible sound.

"No, not until it looks good and we are finished touching your boobs, which are really nice, by the way," Jason tells her with a grin. By now, the boys of the class have formed a line behind Jason, and each have brought their own differently-colored bottle of paint. And just like Jason, each of them grabs her breasts with vigor, slathering paint all over her chest while "copping a feel" at the same time, the irony of that phrase for her not lost on Beckett.

"Stop!" she repeats again and again, but it still comes out muffled and the boys just ignore her as small hands touch her all over her boobs until her shirt is painted all the different colors of the rainbow.

Beckett can already imagine what Castle will have to say about _this._

**FRIDAY**

Turns out, Castle has _a lot _to say about it, unsurprisingly, but Beckett rolls her eyes and shakes her head in what's now her customary reaction to his childish innuendos. She endures his playful taunting for the rest of the evening and wakes up the next morning feeling the most relieved and happy she's felt all week. Today marks her last day in the wretched classroom, whether or not she manages to single out the witness, and she's all too grateful for that.

Her positive attitude seems to affect the day itself, because she's even more relieved to discover that the kids are uncharacteristically calm and the most obedient they've been all week. They follow any and all instructions she gives them, not showing even a trace of mischief or devious intent. And during the first half of the day, something overtakes her, something she can only describe as what she imagines experienced teachers or even mothers feel when they share significant bonding moments with their children. Briefly, as a result, she finds herself having small daydreams about what it'll be like when she and Castle eventually have kids of their own. The thought makes her smile.

Lunchtime comes sooner than expected, during which time Beckett takes the opportunity to check any and all voicemails on her phone. She turns the volume up enough so the messages can be heard over the noise of the cafeteria. The first two are from Ryan and Espo, each offering general updates on the case, neither relaying much progress made. _They can't all get solved so quickly, _she thinks. The third is from Castle, just checking in on her and seeing if she needs any further advice. The level of concern in his voice makes her smile that smile that only he can bring out in her.

She sets her phone down, turning her attention back to her salad, when she hears the sound of her name to her left. "Miss Beckett!"

It's Emily, situated a few seats a few seats down the table from Beckett.

Beckett gets up and walks over to the little girl until she's standing directly behind her. "What is it, Emily?"

"I can't open the top off my Sunny D," says Emily in a slightly whiny tone, holding up the small bottle of the orange liquid. "Can you help me open it, please?"

"Sure," Beckett replies with a warm smile.

She takes the bottle and easily twists the top to the right with a simple flick of the wrist. Still smiling, she sets the drink back down in front of Emily, who offers a bright, "Thanks!"

Beckett goes to return to her seat at the end of the table when she feels it, the sudden plop of something squishy as it collides with her back, lingering there for a moment or two before slipping off her and onto the floor. It makes her gasp involuntarily and whip around to see what it was. Turns out, it was a piece of cafeteria pizza, which now lies on the ground at her feet and has no doubt left a saucy stain on the back of her shirt. But it hadn't come from any of _her _kids, obviously, because she'd been facing the wrong direction at the time of the incident for that to be possible. It didn't take all her years of experience as a Detective to make it clear that it had come from one of the kids at the other tables.

She slowly looks back up to try and spot the culprit, but by then, it's too late.

"FOOOOOOD FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!" the shout of a nearby boy declares over all the chatter, momentarily making everything come to a standstill.

It's almost like it's a scene in a movie that someone has hit the Pause button on, but only for a few seconds. A battle cry sounds up from a bunch of kids, making everybody spring into action. Of course, that involves most kids scooping up pieces of whatever food's in front of them at that very moment before lobbing them through the air with joyous gusto.

As it so happens, Beckett is caught dead-center in the crossfire. Before she can even get three steps, a cacophony of food is pelting her from all directions, slapping against her sides, head, chest, legs. She brings her hands up to shield her face, and only barely registers the other teachers trying to dodge the flying food while attempting to get the place back under control. She wonders, as she's pelted from all sides with what seems like every piece of food imaginable, whether she should try to help the teachers. Then she steps on something that causes her to lose her balance and go plummeting to the ground.

She lands with her stomach falling on top of two mounds of mashed potatoes, while her face is smashed into a small pool of gravy. After lifting her head in a daze and sighing deeply, she feels two separate..._somethings _hit and splatter against both sides of her butt.

_Stay down! _she tells herself desperately, but that doesn't help her any, as more food finds its way to her, mostly her back.

Fortunately, a reprieve comes in the form of a harsh whistle blow that cuts through the chaos and effectively silences it. Seconds of stark silence follow, during which Beckett cautiously gets to her feet.

The whistle blow had come from the Principal, who's standing in the center of the cafeteria and regarding everything with fierce eyes and a red face. "In all my years…" he says in a raised, but steady voice, "I've _never_… A school-wide assembly is happening in thirty minutes, during which, we'll discuss _proper behavior _and how to deal with tomfoolery like this!"

Beckett looks down at herself and notices with a groan how much worse for wear she looks in comparison with all the other teachers who'd been in the middle of the food fight. She looks like she just crawled out of a battlefield where the ammunition had been food instead of bullets, which wasn't far from the truth.

The principal makes his way to her, giving her a sympathetic stare. "Maybe you should try cleaning yourself off as best you can in the meantime," he tells her.

She needs no further coaxing. With a relieved nod, she heads towards the doors of the cafeteria, earning herself quite a few giggles and pointing from various kids along the way, but paying it no mind.

It takes her twenty-five minutes to make herself presentable again, most of that time spent holed up in the teachers' shower, reserved for those moments where an Arts &amp; Crafts project goes awry or for other incidents of the sort, food fights being one of them. She disposes her dirty clothes in a compartment of her gym bag, figuring they might be beyond saving, given the amount of stains on them.

Finally feeling like herself again, Beckett exits the bathroom and deposits the bag back in the classroom. She makes her way to the cafegymatorium, the room where the cafeteria, gym and auditorium all come together to make one large, multi-purpose space, often separated by a movable wall. Along the way, though, she notices her clothes feel a little odd, as if they're slightly loose, even though they hug the shape of her body as they always do.

She enters the gathering area, casting her eyes downward when she notices a few of the teachers eye her when she walks in, uncharacteristically shy at the attention. Spotting her class seated near the front of the two large groups that occupy the center of the floor, she makes her way to them, walking in-between the groups.

It happens right as she reaches the front of each, where she's in plain sight of everyone gathered there.

Without any type of warning, her clothes literally tear apart and fall from her body, fluttering to her feet. Her shirt and pants lie in two halves each on the floor, leaving Beckett just standing there in her bra and panties, out in the open for everyone to see, her face frozen in an expression caught between shock, embarrassment, surprise and terror.

"Best! Assembly! _Ever!_" yells a random boy from the crowd, initiating a loud, raucous round of laughter.

In a delayed reaction, Beckett scrambles to cover herself as best she can, before giving into instinct and racing from the area, not even stopping to pick up her clothes. On her way out, it occurs to her: one of her "delightful" kids came into the bathroom while she was in the shower and unseamed her change of clothes.

_How in the hell is this happening to me? _she thought in despair.

She'd said it before, but this time, she truly meant it: she _hated _this case. Her only consolation as she ran for her bag was that Castle would get what she needed next week. If only she could've been spared this past week to begin with.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed the fic. And to quote CalPal concerning the paint prank and whether or not it feels like too much: "Kids love paint and boys like boobs." ;)**


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